Tonight
by miss atari
Summary: All it takes is one night to make up; to fall in love all over again. MxM. Angst. Angst. Angst. And beer!


Ahh, I has oneshot. :D

I'd been wanting to write this story for a year now, but I could never get around to doing it. Each time I would fail and couldn't finish what I started simply because I didn't like, and well, this week I finally sat down and wrote... and wrote, and this is the final outcome. I hope you guys like it, because I enjoyed writing it very much.

It's based on a MxM video on youtube done by... uh, fuck, I don't remember, but the song is 'Fall For You' by Secondhand Serenade. Look it up. The video is perfect, and while I liked the idea of it, I had to make the story into my own thing.

Anyways, I guess I should warn you guys about some gender confusion, but its perfectly intentional, so please don't tell me that I accidentally put 'she' when it should have been 'he'. And, um... also, beer! Lots of beer! Like I ha--- NEVERMIND. Heheh.

This oneshot is dedicated to Lia. [: She's a girl that took the time out of her a few weeks ago to contact me through facebook while I was going through the ordeal with my grandmother, and well, it drastically lightened my mood that week and it touched me. This is for her, as a thank you because I will never be able to correctly word my appreciation for her doing what she did.

Enjoy.

* * *

A breath of fresh air was all he needed. The atmosphere inside the apartment had become stuffy and heavy, and he wanted to get out. If he stayed any longer than he had to, if he lingered around more than he already had, things would end up worse than they ever were before. Of this he was sure, and he knew that he couldn't go on anymore like this; it was breaking his heart.

It was the same thing every night. They would fight over everything and anything. Some nights it was verbal, but most nights, like tonight, it was physical. Fists would fly, bodies would be forced into the wall, furniture would break and the world would stop turning. When it was all over, one of them would be sleeping on the couch and it was a damn lonely existence.

As much as he hated this, hated what they had become, what could he do? He tried to make things better and nothing ever worked.

Upping the ante in bed? Check.

Pushing aside his gaming addiction to fulfill the wants of his temperamental lover? Check.

Giving his all to the boy that threw him away? Check.

Hell, he had even gone so far as to have dinner fixed and on the table by six, the time when he used to come home. It made no difference though; nothing changed and the fighting grew worse.

It had gotten to the point where he would leave when things got too bad, and this night was no exception. His body ached, and he could have sworn that his arm was broken. Going to a hospital to get that looked at was out of the question, and all because his lover was paranoid that he would be noticed as the accomplice in a game of cat of mouse.

He knew that no one would recognize him; not unless someone happened to be a huge fan of the mafia. He still wouldn't go though, just to save his own ass when he came home from staying at a hotel until they both cooled down. It would have been hell to come back only to leave again because he'd been in the emergency room getting his arm realigned. That was something he didn't want to deal with.

"You're still here?" A voice growled from behind the couch, annoyed and still very much angry.

"I'm fucking leave," he responded, pushing himself up with his good arm.

"Good riddance," was his farewell and he wanted to do nothing more than fall to the floor in a heap of sobs and heartbreak.

---

That fight had been a month ago and he refused to return home.

He'd made a nice life for himself living out of a hotel that he'd been paying for by fixing the computers and various electronics around the vicinity. He hadn't been contacted by anyone, and as far as knew, things had gone the way they'd been planned and the world was much safer now.

"Matt," an elder's voice sounded through a two way radio. "The main system is down."

"Got it," said male answered into the device as he slowly made his way from his couch to his bedroom, where his laptop lay connected to the main system of the hotel. It was one of many laptops he had acquired over his stay in the states, and it was the only one he used to complete his job as the electronic maintenance man.

The others, well, they were used to keep track of the case he'd fled on a month prior. One was connected directly to the base he was once a part of, for the purposes of keeping track of the way things were progressing, even though he didn't check on it half the time. Another was used to hack into the systems of various banks, in the off chance that he needed extra money when his repair man status wasn't pulling in enough.

For the most part, however, Matt had jumped off the investigation wagon. He had pushed that lifestyle aside for something that didn't involve possibly getting himself killed. It had been the way he was raised, but it wasn't the way he wanted to live his life anymore. His conditioning from the orphanage back in England was nothing compared to the real world, and if he had wanted to live his life in secrecy (which he didn't), he wouldn't have even bothered leaving. That place had been a safe haven, and that's all it would ever be to those too afraid to step outside of the walls to become something more than another emotionless being behind a title fit for no one else but the genuine man it was reserved for.

To Matt, several years after following his best friend out, that place made no sense. The mere idea of sitting behind a desk and solving crimes made no sense to him, even if he was one of the top three in line for the title. Maybe that's why he was stuck in the third spot, but then again, he didn't care. He never did; which was why he was here in a hotel, logging onto the main system with hopes if keeping it going for longer than a week.

"Shifts over," Matt announced as he walked into the office behind the service desk. "I'm going out for the night."

The old man grunted, an indication that he had heard and was aware of Matt leaving for a few hours.

It was a nightly routine; Matt would leave his room about five in the afternoon, go down to the lobby and to the office, where he would clock out until his next shift, and leave until midnight or later. Most of the time he would bar hop and pick up people - women and men - to feed the sexual appetite that came with the alcohol. He was a horny drunk, and he was perfectly fine with that, as were most of the people he took home or went home with.

However, tonight would be different. Had he the ability to see into the future Matt would've reconsidered going out, but since he didn't, he ran up to his room to change and leave like he did on any normal night of partying. Matt looked forward to a care free night, several drinks and a shot at going to bed with someone at least mildly attractive. As was his mental state each night he went out.

Hopping onto his bike, Matt revved it up and took off towards his favourite bar located on the outskirts of town. It took him a while to get there, but he didn't mind the drive, it gave him time to think about things and where he would like to be that same moment the next week. It also gave him ample time to collect himself before waltzing into the club with a cocky persona he had never known he had. It hadn't been his fault that he never got experience this new side of himself, and he knew this. In reality, it had been the fact that he was so used to being someone's puppy that he had forgotten all about himself. That was until things started to go haywire between him and Mello.

Matt enjoyed his cocky persona; he played it cool, he had swag and it made people crowd him like he was a prince and everyone else were his loyal subjects. It got him laid, got him free booze and it got him into places he never imagined going to. Matt was, as far as these people were concerned, VIP. And he liked it, very much so. He was no longer Matt, geeky side-kick to the ever awesome bad ass, Mello. There was no Matt, but there was Mail.

Mail, his real name gone persona, and cool as shit bad boy. Mail had it all; the looks, the job, the money (which he really didn't have, save for the accounts he stole it from) and the attitude to match. Mail was lusted after by many, and those fortunate enough to capture his glances, were whom he went with that night. He was another pretty face on the scene, and while he enjoyed it, it wasn't the same.

The free alcohol was nice, the new places were amazing and the lays were pretty good. It wasn't what he wanted though, and what he did want, he wasn't going to get. Matt sought to stop the ache in his heart that started months prior-- around the time when the fights between his long time best friend and he began to fight. Even then, that wasn't what he wanted and he was aware of that. Dulling the pain worked well, but in order to completely stop it, well he would need to go back in time and redo whatever it was that came between the infamous pair in the first place. And, well, that just wasn't going to happen now or ever, much to Matt's disappointment.

Coming to a full stop outside the doors of the bar, Matt waved to several regulars as he stood, placed the helmet in the compartment under the seat and slipped the keys into his pocket. Inhaling heavily and flinching when a few guys slapped his back while spewing 'hey, man!' or 'long time no see', Matt crossed the curb and stopped in front of the building before entering. This was his normal entrance, and he desperately needed to change it. No point in hesitating the inevitable, right? Right.

The neon lights above the bar blinked in a tired fashion, signaling for people to stumble in and grab a place at the bar or dance floor. There was a bouncer, but like most nights, he wasn't doing his job. Rather, he was participating in things that he definitely shouldn't have been getting paid for. The front of the location was shoddy, littered with empty beer bottles and cigarette butts, but people still came. Never judge a bar by its outside appearance, because, believe it not you really won't care about the way it looks after you've knocked back a few. At least, that's the way Matt looked at it. He was sure he wasn't the only one, too.

"Sup, man?!" A guy yelled as Matt entered, and Matt, as cool as he was, greeted him with the ever popular indication nod.

"Up for another round of beer pong?" Matt was asked, the other male slinging his arm over Matt's shoulders as they walked into the bar. A few whoops of excitement came from an area Matt knew to be his designated spot, which was already surrounded by enough people to begin a chorus line; girls and guys alike.

"Dude!"

"You came!"

"Fuck, man, check this shit out!"

"Dude,"

"Hey," Matt gave a small wave, pleasing the masses as he situated himself in the corner.

"A simple beer, Mail?" A young woman asked.

"As always," he stated, smiling at her.

"Coming right up!"

Matt leaned forwards in his chair, his elbows located on the round table as he watched the other inhabitants with mild interest. A group of girls no older than him were nothing but giggles as they kept looking back at his table to see his eyes flashing in their direction. With a barely there flick of his wrist, he waved and nodded at them, praying that they would stay on their dance club side of the bar so that he wouldn't have to deal with them. He really didn't feel like dabbling in that sexual department tonight; it was strictly males for him.

---

A while later his third drink was placed atop the table and he grabbed it up like the last cup of booze on Earth. The drink didn't last long enough to do anything, as he had downed it before he was even asked to join the fourth round of beer pong. A game that Matt normally declined, claiming that his shot was too good for it and he would never get drunk if he depended on throwing a ball into a cup of beer. While he was good, and his team usually won, he never did drink the liquid on the times that his team lost. They always finished it before he got a cup, the selfish bastards they are.

"Dude," one of his bar buddies began, already drunk and nearly falling onto his ass, "you see that girl over there?"

"Huh? Yeah," Matt said a little too loudly.

"F-fucking hot, right? Go-go say hi!" The man sputtered, pulling Matt down from his chair and pushing him in the direction of the dance floor.

Rolling his eyes, Matt shrugged him off and, despite telling himself that he was going to stick to the bar and to men for the night, found himself wandering over towards this female that had been so graciously pointed out to him. Stopping at the railing, Matt watched as she moved her hips from side to side with the beat of the song, her arms haphazardly waving in the air above her golden locks. She was hot, he had to admit, and she looked like she could do wonders in bed just by being able to perform moves like that. Matt was hypnotized, his eyes following her every movement as she danced without a care in the world.

"Good lookin' ain't she?" An unknown male asked, watching the girl like a piece of meat.

"Y-yeah," Matt stammered, his top lip curling upwards at the predatory look in this guy's eyes. There was no way he was going to be out done by this hair metal looking cheap skate. No way in hell.

The song changed, and for a moment she ceased her dancing as she waited for the next song to start up. It took a few seconds, but by the time Matt had made his way down to the low level a new song had began to play in its place. The bass pumped in his ears and swam through his veins as he staggered towards the middle of the floor-- towards the girl that had captured his interests.

What happened to only wanting to take a guy home? Fuck, Matt didn't know anymore.

Coming up behind her, he leaned in close, pushed her hair away and breathed a wispy breath of air against the back of her neck. She froze, but only momentarily before picking up the rhythm and moving to the beat. Matt placed his hands on her hips, his body following hers as he closed his eyes. He could tell that she had backed up against him, not only because he could feel her ass against his crotch, but because it was doing wonders to him beneath the waist. Matt was intoxicated and he wanted more as he pulled her body back closer to his, hoping to close every little gap between them at any spot imaginable. He couldn't get enough, and if he didn't slow it down, he wouldn't make it back to the hotel with the girl in tow. Sex in a bar bathroom was never a good time; nor was in a car. Now, the back alley didn't sound so bad…

Pulling back, Matt placed his chin atop her shoulder as he spoke directly into her ear, "how 'bout we go back to my place?"

That was all it took for her to freeze permanently, and enough of a reaction for him to realize he had done something he shouldn't have. Fuck, why'd he have to ask so soon? That would have been in the bag - or, in this case, the bed - had he waited a little longer to ask her! It wasn't like him to ask for sex so soon after meeting someone; he totally screwed up.

Mentally cursing himself, he failed to notice that she had grabbed his arm by his wrist and was currently tugging him towards the exit of both the dance floor and bar. However, Matt hadn't missed the catcalls that his fellow drunkards were yelling towards the couple as they left. Blinking, he figured that he must've done something right and felt a like a right doofus for insulting himself. That should teach him to never underestimate his ability to pick up a girl.

The next couple of things were a sudden blur to Matt, but he wasn't complaining because he had ended up with his arms around her waist and her lips smashed against his. She tasted of chocolate, a taste Matt had deeply missed. With their new found entanglement, they managed to find their way towards her car, where they instructed the driver to take them back to her place. It was there, in the back of the car, that a few things clicked as Matt brought a hand up to her chest.

One, she had a driver. Who the fuck had a driver? She did, that's who.

Two, she tasted a lot like chocolate and that taste mixed with her own taste, alcohol riddled or not, was too familiar.

And three, she most definitely lacked a very prominent feature that most girls had.

Biting his lip, Matt decided not to press these issues, knowing damn well that he had originally intended on going home with a man tonight. Instead, he closed his eyes and dove back in for another steamy make out session until they arrived at _his_ destination. An obvious battle of dominance was going on between both males, and neither wanted to lose. At least, they didn't want to until the car came to an abrupt stop and the blond haired male got out of the car. This action not only caused Matt to fall flat on his face, but it made his heart quench as he looked up at the place that they had stopped in front of.

Matt blanched as he stared at the complex. He could feel the alcohol that he'd consumed rising in the back of his throat and his heart strings tightened. He wasn't supposed to be here; this wasn't supposed to be happening. Matt had decided that the night he left a month ago that there would be no reason to go back to the place that had ruined his life. This hookup wasn't worth the trouble he was getting himself into. Nothing was worth stepping foot back onto the property, and he refused to emerge from the car.

"Coming?" Matt's host asked from outside the car.

Shaking his head, Matt croaked out, "no."

"Matt," the voice spoke again; and why Matt didn't question the fact that this stranger knew his name or sounded eerily like Mello was beyond him. He would blame it on the alcohol in the morning.

"What?" Matt whispered.

"Come on,"

"I don't want to."

"Stop being stubborn," Mello spoke again as he bent over, grabbed Matt's arm and pulled him from the car. "We're going inside."

"I'm not going back there," Matt stated, pulling his body in the opposite direction.

"Matt?" Mello questioned, dropping the boy's limb and dejectedly looking at the floor as he stood on the first step of the stairs. "Come on; come home."

---

Following Mello, Matt found himself back in the apartment that he had left behind. It felt like an eternity since he'd been there, and while the atmosphere was no longer thick and able to be cut with a knife, Matt didn't like it. Too many bad memories rested here, and he wanted to leave.

"Matt," Mello closed in on Matt as he pushed the younger male against the door, effectively shutting it with their added weight.

"Umph," Matt groaned as the door knob dug into his back, but the sudden shock of pain was forgotten when Mello roughly pressed his lips against Matt's mouth for another round of making out.

Mello's hands slid up Matt's sides and his body pressed into all the contours of Matt's form as they played a violent game of tonsil hockey; winner takes loser. Matt could feel Mello's erection pressing into his groin, and it took all he was not to shove him onto the ground for better leverage. Bucking his hips, Matt moaned into Mello's mouth as their clothed erections rocked against each other.

This was going to be a night they wouldn't forget.

---

Hours later found Matt looking at the ceiling, a content smile playing on his lips. The night had turned out perfectly, and he wouldn't have wished for it to have been any other way. Silently he thanked his beer buddy back at the bar for pointing out the 'hot girl' on the dance floor.

"Matt?" Mello whispered into the night air, turning over to face the body in bed with him.

"Yeah?" Matt muttered, following Mello's movement and turning to face the other male.

"I missed you,"

"I missed you too, Mel."

With that, Mello gave a soft sigh and he pressed his body against Matt's for the first time in several months. It took all he had during their separation to recall the last time he had actually taken the time to cuddle with Matt, let alone spent time with Matt without fighting. He had lost track of what they had, and for that he was sorry.

Mello knew he had allowed the investigation to take over his life, and as a result of that, to corrupt his love life as well. He also knew that he had taken his anger out on Matt; the anger that he held for his rival and for the mass murderer. Mello had always told himself that he would keep those things separate, but in the end, he couldn't and it all came crashing down on him.

It was ruined, and he knew that by the morning, Matt would be another notch on his bed post, even though they were together from their teenage years to their early twenties. There was nothing left to salvage in their relationship, as fair as he knew, because he'd been such a prick. It was his fault Matt left in the first place, and it was his fault he lost the investigation to Near a week ago. And, as he watched Matt watching him, he knew it would be his fault when he woke up in the morning to an empty bed and the feeling of loneliness.

"Mello," Matt reached out and cupped Mello's cheek, bringing their faces together as if it were the first time they were together. "Stop thinking so hard."

.

.

.

_"Best thing about tonight's that we're not fighting."_

* * *

The end! This thing was 5 pages with a font of 10. Which has me curious, I've seen some people saying they've had like 4,000 words on 7 pages. So, those of you that write, which font size do you use? This has been nagging me for a few weeks now.

Anyways, I hope you guys liked it, and if there are any things that need to be fixed, please tell me. I made sure to thoroughly comb through this in order to fix most things, but sometimes stuff can go undetected in the writer's eyes. That's why there are editors.

Review, please. Thank you.


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